1. Last Tuesday, I learned that nine out of ten times I will be able to carry a baby, a bag of groceries, a water bottle and a set of keys while ascending the stairs without incident. But, there is that one time when I will trip on some invisible object in my new sandals. And, in order to prevent myself from landing on The Baby, I will jam my foot into the rise of a step and break my toe. Broken toes which swell like purple sausages are not only unsightly, but they also make you feel stupid because you cannot help but walk around looking lame( in all senses of the word.). It doesn't hurt anymore, but I can't feel it either. I wonder if it will just continue to turn black and fall off?
|I exaggerate, of course. My toe, while that purple was not more swollen that my big toe. It was, however, as swollen as my big toe; and by the third day, the bottom side had turned black. Ick!|
I cannot even put into words the amount of guilt that I feel for not having pursued this more aggressively early on. My gut kept telling me that there was something wrong and I kept trying to express it to the doctors; but, they brushed off my concerns because she appeared so content in the office. I feel awful for ever having entertained the suggestion that this was just a personality/ behavioral issue that we just needed to overcome. The poor kid was in pain. Luckily, since it was suggested prior to the testing that she might have reflux, I was able to try a modified diet with her. She is doing better on smaller meals through out the day. Putting her back on pureed baby food has seemed to alleviate the discomfort as well. We have even gotten some nights of uninterrupted sleep (accept for last night). Her gastroparesis is not something that will ever go away; but, if we are diligent, we will be able to manage it with diet.
I cannot help but feel a little bit sad that she will no longer be able to consume the foods that she has come to enjoy like blueberries and peas. I worry that it will limit her gratification of social experiences since so many of our social interactions involve food. I am glad to have this knowledge now- so that we can continue to learn, continue to help her. She will learn at a very young age to be in tune with her body and to advocate for her health. There is a small gift in that.
3. Now that Henry is twelve years old (he just celebrated his birthday on Friday) and is entering a quiet, brooding adolescent phase (as opposed to the quiet, brooding childhood phase), it is so difficult to find topics to talk about with him. There is very little I can offer that will pique his interest to either speak or listen to me. I cannot even entice him, my only non-picky eater, with new or inventive foodstuff. We used to bond at the dinner table over our similar palates. I know that we are following a typical course in the pre-teen/ parent relationship. But, I am sure I was in denial that my Henry would ever close me out. I did, however, learn this week that not all hope is lost. I have an iPhone App to thank for a moment of mutual, unbridled joy. The Fart App, is an invaluable tool which helps bridge the gap between parent and child. The App provides a catalog of gas passing sonorousness which ranges from the sound a duck would make if one were to step on it to the sound of a nuclear explosion. I did not know that Henry even remembered how to giggle. But, as he took me through the index of characters busting a grumpy, a smile, which had been tucked away for too long, lit up his face. His amusement at my cracking up only made me laugh harder; and, then Princess Commando joined us and we were all goners. Tears streaming down our faces, abdominal muscles aching with a burning joy and intensity. While, a twinge of guilt makes me question the appropriateness of my parenting choices in these situations, it is always squashed by the realization that if I had stifled their sense of humor, I would have missed out on a much needed moment to laugh with them. Farts will always win.
In the immortal words of Shinta Cho: "FARTHEEWELL!"